It has been almost 18 months since The Accident. Today is exactly 18 months since the last time I watched him perform. Tomorrow marks 18 months since the last time I hugged my son or spoke with him. The last time I saw his smile and heard his laugh. Until I see him in heaven.
Grief is hard. But as times go by, and if we do the next right thing, it becomes easier to deal with. We can heal from the intense grief of losing a child with the help of God.
Church services are still hard. Songs mentioning heaven always bring tears as do songs about the goodness of God. I believe God is good and kind and loving. I cling to that truth! Still, singing about such things causes tears.
Some Sundays only a few tears escape and run down my cheek. Other Sundays, they come in a flood. It is rare that I make it through a service without tears.
I don’t know why.
Perhaps it is just that my emotions are still tender. Perhaps they always will be, like a wound that heals but leaves a sensitive scar.
I have learned to accept that the tears will come. I keep tissues with me. I sit with people who are not uncomfortable with my tears.
My tears don’t mean I am sad. They mean I remember. I always will remember.
Read Part Two